Grim

Chapter 2

"So, do you have a name?" He asked after a while, his expression was different now. It was as if a mask of calmness covered his face. All signs of light-hearted conversation disappeared.

"Valerie," For some reason I answered him.

"You are the street vender that sells the paintings, correct?"

That took me off guard. It's true, I flock to the busiest parts of the city to paint and sell my paintings if anyone is interested. When I first moved here, that's what I planned on doing to make the majority of my money. I had been naive. No one wants paintings from some nameless, no talent. I wasn't

famous, or had any schooling when it came to art. My parents always loved the things I created, they praised my work. I thought I was good enough. But I see now, not everyone shares the same opinion. Now, it's more of a hobby. I still offer to sell the things that I paint, but I removed the stress of making it my career.

I usually painted every other day, but the lack of money I was making made it impossible to buy painting supplies. I haven't been able to return to my paint brushes in about a month now.

"Yes, I mean - I used to." I admitted taking a sip out of my lukewarm coffee.

His eyes followed my movements for a moment, before he responded. "There is a painting that I'm interested in buying from you."

"Is that right, which one?"

"It's the one you have tucked away in your closet, the third painting in the stack."

"You were snooping through my closet?" I couldn't stop the sour look that came to my face.

I was beginning to think this guy was a complete weirdo. He was looking through my things, invading my privacy, demanding breakfast from me. I've never met someone like him. He had a lot of nerve. But he made no attempt to hide it. He openly admitted that he was looking through my things. But that didn't give him the right. These rich, business men, they always felt entitled to everything.

For a second, a flicker of a smirk crossed his face, before he went back to an expressionless mask. "Yes, I suppose I did, I apologize for that." His dark eyes were unreadable, and the way that he was sitting across from me, felt dominating. As if I was sitting in front of a man with authority. I had the urge to shift

away from him. But I held my ground.

"Alright, well if you know where it is, go ahead and get it." I allowed. Anything to get some space between the two of us. I couldn't trust what this man was going to do. He seemed harmless before, but now I had an awful feeling, rolling around in my gut. He had such a strong intensity. If he wanted, he could snap me like a swig. His muscles were impressive, even as I watched him rise from the table and turn his back to me, to head back to my bedroom, you could see his defining muscles of his back. He had the body of someone you would assume, worked for the military. He never did mention his name, or really anything about himself. I was the one to give all my information.

Maybe that wasn't the smartest move.

It has always been in my nature to give people the benefit of doubt. Growing up, our little town didn't have much crime, it was filled with honest, hard working people. I was always so blissfully unaware of the fact that there are people in the world that aren't good. Moving to the city opened my eyes to a lot of

that harsh reality. I've been robbed, on my way home. I've been stalked on a few occasions. There was even an incident where someone had put something in my drink at the bar. I woke up in a dumpster on the other side of town, battered, bruised, but still alive.

It was terrifying to live here. I had to be careful. I should

have learned from my mistakes in the past. But here I was, with a complete stranger, who is a lot stronger than me and capable of killing me, or kidnapping me.

Under the table, I reached down with my plastic fork and clutched it tightly in my fist. I would be ready to strike, if he tried something. It might not do much damage, but if I aim for his eyes, maybe I could make a quick escape. My body tensed as he returned, a large painting in his hand. The look on his face has

changed again. He almost looked sad.

"Which one caught your eyes?" I asked, remaining cautious.

Wordlessly, he laid the painting down in front of me. It was a painting I remembered doing around New Year's Eve. Everyone had gathered around the main park. Liberty park was the place I mainly set up my station. Most people would pass through this park on they way to and from work, employees in the buildings

surrounding the park would use this area for their lunch breaks. I noticed a nice looking couple. They had been seated by the fountain, sharing a meal together. They shared a few sweet kisses. Romance was a mystery to me, my parents weren't exactly the lovey dovey type. So when I saw public displays such as this, I had the urge to study it. I had painted the couple with pinpoint accuracy, each detail of their clothing, the expressions on their faces, even the smallest detail of the jewelry the woman wore.

"Do you know these people?" I wondered, watching his face. He gave me a short smile, although it didn't appear genuine. "I do, that is my best friend, and my wife."

Instantly I felt guilt and pity for the guy. His wife was having an affair with his best friend? It couldn't get much worse than that. The plastic fork I had clenched in my hand, I now moved to place it back on the table. Slowly, I took a few more sips of my coffee, unsure of how to respond to this. I couldn't imagine how he was feeling at this moment.

"I'm sorry," Was all I could think to say.

He chuckled, without humor. "There is nothing you should be apologizing for. I have nothing but gratitude for you. I've been trying to figure out who the other man was for a long time. Until I saw this painting on display last week. It took me a while to find you. Everyone in the park that I questioned couldn't tell

me anything about you. Not a name, or an address, they just knew that you frequented Bubba's Bar."

Great, so even in a huge city like this, people still noticed me, and worse yet, they thought I was a drunk.

"So, you came looking for me last night at the bar." I tried to recall anything that had happened last night, but all I could remember was sitting down at the bar. The bartender already knew what I was drinking and had three cocktails poured and waiting for me. Three drinks turned to six, I lost count quickly.

"Yeah, the bartender pointed you out. By the time I got to you, I'd say you were pretty trashed. But you were pleasant nonetheless. You bought me a few rounds of drinks, we spent the whole night together. I hadn't planned on things going in this direction... I mean waking up here in your bed. I promise I had no intentions to use you. I am truly sorry." He said, bowing his head for a second.

For some reason, I believed him. He sounded like a guy that was truly going through a hard time. Maybe we weren't so different. I was too quick to judge him.

"Don't worry about it, things happen, I'm sorry I can't remember any of it," I paused, chewing my lip as I debated with myself. It was none of my business. But my curiosity got the better of me. Hesitantly I moved my arm out from under the table, to expose the strange inscription tattooed on my forearm. “You wouldn’t happen to know the story behind this tattoo, would you?

His eyes widened and his body instantly became tense. Motionless silence fell between us. His expression was unreadable. Anxiety was steadily increasing by the second.

“What is it,” I demanded, on the edge of a meltdown.

My words seemed to unfreeze him. His dark eyes flickered up to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea where that tattoo came from. I hadn’t noticed it on you last night.”

I groaned, withdrawing my arm back under the table. “Fantastic,”

The man sitting across from me appeared to be deeply in his thoughts as he became quiet again. He really was stunning, his features were so masculine and mysterious. The way his brows pulled together, suggested he was stressed about something. It was clear something was bothering him.

"You never did… mention your name." I couldn’t bear the awkward silence.

A more natural smile came to his face now, his body seemed to relax a little. "Erik," He held his hand out to me.

I shook his hand, ignoring how strong and smooth his hand felt. He was flawless, it made it hard to believe that his wife would have been unfaithful. He looked to be successful, he did have a bit of an ego, but that goes hand in hand with good looking men. At least that's what I've come to learn.

So why did she do it? And with his best friend. There was more to this story, I was sure. But I wouldn't cross that line of privacy. I'm sure it wasn't anything he would want to share with a stranger.

"Well Erik, don't worry about paying for the painting. It's yours." I offered him a smile.

"I don't think so, let's not forget I owe you for a lot more than the painting. You treated me to a wonderful evening of drinking. Not to mention probably the best s*x I've had in years. And even though the eggs were a bit old, you served me a nice warm breakfast." He spoke, pulling out his wallet to start pulling out

neatly folded bills.

My face started to heat up at the mention of the s*x. If it was as good as he made it sound, I wished that I could have at least remembered some of the details.

This was turning into one of the strangest mornings I've had. My head was still spinning as he handed me a thick stack of bills. I didn't know the sum, but I could already tell that he was giving me more than I could ever deserve.

"I couldn't take all this, don't be ridiculous," I said, hastily trying to hand it back to him.

He quickly tucked his wallet back in his pocket. "It's nothing, this is just my wife's monthly spending money. She isn't getting a dime of my paycheck anymore. Today is the day I'm handing over the divorce papers, along with this painting. Think of this as a thank you. You have saved me a lifetime full of misery."

"It just doesn't seem right, I mean... I didn't do anything to really deserve this." I said, staring at the huge stack of bills.

"Well then, this money I'm giving you, will come with conditions." He said as he stood up, finally putting his nice dress shirt on and gathering his things.

"What are the conditions?"

"This money can't be used for trips to the bar. Buy some groceries, or ways to improve your living conditions here." He shrugged his shoulders with an easy smile.

He turned his back to start heading for the door. I got up from my seat and followed slowly behind him. He paused at the door for just a moment, glancing back at me, his eyes darted to the tattoo on my arm for just a second, before letting our eyes meet. "And of course, use it to help that sick sister of yours. I hope this helps."

My heart squeezed in my chest as I felt my eyes getting watery. I held back my raw emotions under a mask of surprise. "You know about that too,"

"You mentioned it a few times last night, I was beginning to think that's why you looked so sad at the bar last night. Anyway, I'll see you around Valerie."

With that, he pulled open the door with a low creak and made his way out into the hallway. I could only stand there. Overwhelmed by emotion. He didn't have to do this. He didn't have to be... so kind to me. I've never run into anyone in this city that gave a damn about other people's problems. It touched me. Now that he wasn't here, I let a few tears slid down my cheeks; that were still warm.

Quietly, I flipped through the bills counting silently in my head. Five thousand. No, that couldn't be right. I counted again. And again. I couldn't believe it.

Who carries that kind of money on them? Why would he just give this to me? For nothing? He must have made a mistake. I knew he was probably wealthy, but I didn't think he was that well off. If I ever saw him again, I would be sure to thank him. Maybe I'll be able to offer him a little better than an old scrambled egg.

As things began to register in my mind, I quickly made my way back into the kitchen to the landline. I had to call my mother. I couldn’t wait to tell her that I was able to save up enough for Ana’s chemotherapy treatment this month. My hands trembled as I dialed her number. It rang for a brief moment, until uncle Ronnie’s voice sounded.

“Henderson residence,” He responded in his usual gruff tone.

“Hey uncle Ronnie, it’s Valerie.” I couldn’t contain the excitement leaking through my voice.

“Oh, lil Val, it’s good to hear from you, it’s been a while. How is the big city treating you? Is the scooter still holding up?”

“Things have been great, and yeah the scooter is fine. I was hoping to talk with mom, is she around?”

“Sure, sure let me go get her. It’s really good to hear from you kid.” He added, before I heard the phone getting set down. I waited, impatiently. It was so hard to not just blurt it out. I just hoped my mother was still doing okay. She has been wrestling with a drinking problem for a few years now. I worried about her. But with uncle Ronnie around to watch her and Ana, I felt confident he could keep the farm in order, until I could come home.

On the other end of the phone, I heard some shuffling before my mother answered, in her usual tired voice.

“Val, it’s about time you called, I’ve been a worried wreck.” She had a slight southern accent. It was a common thing in our little home town, at least the older residents all had a slight drawl.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy lately, but I’m calling with some really good news.” I said, slowly taking a few steps back and forth to the length of the phone cord.

“Is that right, well don’t leave me in suspense.”

“I got the money, I’ll be able to send you the full amount of Ana’s treatment and a little extra to help you guys out for the month.”

The other end of the phone was quiet for a moment. All I could hear was her breathing. Anxiety pinched at me. Why wasn’t she responding? Was I too late? Was something wrong with Ana?

“Well, that’s wonderful dear, it really is. But I’m afraid some things have changed. We took a trip into town with Ana the other day to the doctors…” She paused again and another long stretch of silence fell between us.

“And what did they say?” My heart was racing in my chest. A suffocating feeling struck me. I took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm myself. But my mind was already skipping to the worst possible thing.

“The cancer isn’t responding to the medications that we have been giving her. They believe she will need several rounds of chemotherapy, more than they initially thought and they say the best route will be surgery, to remove both of her breasts.” I could hear my mother begin to weep.

The sounds of her in pain were unbearable to hear. Tears trickled down my cheeks, but I remained silent. I waited, helplessly listening to her cry. I wanted nothing more than to be home. I wanted to hug her tightly and tell her everything would be okay. When she went silent again, I searched for my voice.

“If we can keep up with the payments with the medication, how long do we have…” The words trembled off my lips, almost too quiet to be audible.

“Valerie, the new medication will cost three thousand dollars a month. I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible,” She sounded just as quiet. “Just come home, and spend the remaining time with your sister. Ana will understand.”

“No mom, there is more I can do here, have some faith in me. I have over five grand right now. I’m sure I can keep up with the payments.” I urged.

My mother sighed heavily, sounding as if she was about to snap. She always had a quick temper. So, I was surprised to hear her tone stay soft. “Even if you could keep up with the payments, Ana needs to get surgery for a mastectomy. The doctors said if the surgery goes smoothly, the price of it would be nearly forty thousand.”

I felt my jaw drop. My hope was dwindling, but I held on tightly. I knew I was being overly optimistic, or more accurately, unrealistic. But I put my mind to this, I wouldn’t give up. I would just have to work five times as hard. Only I could make this happen. I just needed to know how long I have.

“How long does she have mom, with just the medication?”

“It will depend on how this new medication will respond to the cancer. If it works, they said she would most likely have at least five years. But if the medication doesn’t work, there is no telling how long she could survive this.”

Five years. That would have to be enough time. It would be very challenging. I would have to make at least three grand a month just for the medications and have a good amount to save for the surgery. I honestly didn’t know if it was possible, but I could never live with myself if I didn’t try. I stood by and did nothing when this was happening with my father. There was nothing I could do to help him. Never again. I had to get serious. No more wasting my money.

“I can do it mom, don’t give up. I promise. I’ll send you the money for the medications. Give me five years.” I said firmly. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince myself more or her at this point.

“Val, I just don’t see how it’s possible,” My mother said with some heat behind her words. She paused for a short length of time, before I heard her sigh. “You have been in Boswell for about a year now and you have been struggling to send in the money for the old medications.” It sounded like she was beginning to calm down again.

“I got a new job, it pays much better, the payments shouldn’t be a problem.” I lied smoothly.

In truth, I have the same dead end, waitressing job I lucked into when I first moved here. Of course, I was constantly looking for something better, but I lacked any formal schooling, no college degree, no experience. Finding places willing to hire me was next to impossible. But I would figure that out later.

“Alright, fine, we will continue with the medications for now. But at her next appointment, if these medications aren’t working, that’s it. We are done. And you have to come home.”

“You have a deal, please give uncle Ronnie the go ahead to make the drive up to get the money.” I said, curling my fingers around the phone cord.

“Okay sweetheart, I’ll send groceries along with him for you. We don’t have much, but it should help you out.” She relented.

“You don’t have to do that,”

“Valerie May, enough, I’m your mother. I can do this much for my kid. Let me help you.” She snipped at me.

I almost laughed at her growing annoyance. She hasn’t changed at all. It was a relief. I’m assuming that she was leaving the alcohol alone. I loved the woman, but when she drank, she was quite mean. It would have been impossible to even talk with her.

“Alright, but don’t overdo it mom, I don’t need much. You and Ana will need it more than me.”

She snorted on the other end of the phone. “You are so much like your father. You had better call more often. If you want to be helpful, don’t worry your mother to death. Be safe. I love you.”

“I will, love you too.”

With that, we both hung up. Conversations with her usually went this way. It always left me exhausted and more stressed than I was before. I would need a minute to refocus.